


Promise

by aishahiwatari



Series: McKirk shorts [11]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 18:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: It's never been a secret that Jim and Bones are together. They have been since the Academy.So why the hell does nobody believe that Jim is in a serious relationship?





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://uhmmmsweetie.tumblr.com/post/187410040975/its-no-secret-that-the-otp-are-together-but-for) tumblr post.

“I haven’t heard any rumours about you- spending time with any of the crew lately,” Uhura says one day, when Jim’s over at her station on the Bridge, looking over some readings she’s found.

By “lately” she means since they left Earth for the very first time, since Jim became Captain, since he nearly lost everything in the fight with Nero. He hasn’t touched a single member of this crew, except for Bones, and most days it feels like he hardly counts as crew since he’s not exactly inclined to follow Jim’s orders anyway.

“I don’t do that anymore,” he says, and wishes her surprised raised eyebrows didn’t make him want to put his fist through one of the screens. “I’m seeing Bones. I don’t need to go looking.”

Technically, it’s not news to anyone. They haven’t exactly been trying to hide it. He and Bones aren’t ones for displays of affection in public, that’s all. Just the odd squeeze of a shoulder or brush of fingers, just standing too close or Bones curling a hand around the back of his neck when he’s trying not to have a panic attack in Med-Bay.

“Oh, like a friends with benefits thing?”

It takes Jim a moment to respond, and by the time he manages to say, “No, not like that,” Uhura is already intercepting a new communication, no longer listening.

There’s probably irony in that, somewhere.

-

“I was wondering if you have some advice, Captain.”

“Of course, Chekov, what’s bothering you?”

“Well, you have- had relations with a number of people. I was wondering how you keep things casual.”

“Oh-”

“Because this is a difficult environment, as I am sure you know, and rank makes things difficult, and there are always expectations that- things will lead to something more.”

“Yeah.”

“And- I am only young. I do not want to be committing to any one person just yet. But so many of them try to insist. Even when they have said differently before.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you are- eligible. More than me. And I was wondering how you keep yourself from getting- tied down. That is the phrase. Isn’t it?”

Jim sighs. “It is the phrase. Although- not a very nice one. You’re young, Chekov. I don’t blame you for not wanting to miss out on anything. A starship’s a weird environment and we’re all kind of weird people for wanting to be here. Just- try and be honest with people. Make it clear, and if you’re only after one thing, maybe keep it separate from your friendships. And be careful. You get a reputation like that, even these days, you might find it kind of hard to shake when you do meet the right person for you.”

“Thank you, Captain. I will try to take that on board. But- if my reputation will be anything like yours, then I know I will have no problem.”

“Yeah. Right. Good talk,” Jim says as he goes, resists the urge to put his head in his hands. He’s halfway through his shift, just stepped away from the Bridge to get some food in the Mess. He can’t reasonably disappear for too much longer to wallow in self-pity.

He picks at his green beans, eats a couple more fries, manages a few more bites of steak.

Maybe he’ll go see what Bones is doing.

-

“We’re just going ashore for a few last drinks. Maybe some food. Might catch a show of the late night, curtains closed variety, if you get my drift? Wanna come?”

Jim is sure Scotty’s offer is well-intentioned. And he doesn’t doubt he’d have a great time. But with half the crew on shore leave, Bones is restocking their inventory and Jim wants nothing more than to keep him company and distract him from doing his vital work for a few hours.

“Thanks, I’m good. You guys don’t want your boss tagging along anyway. Have fun. And remember the Federation does not pay bail.”

There are a few disappointed sounds, but most of the crew accept his excuse.

Scotty lingers for a moment. “We won’t say anything. If it’s going to be a problem with- you know. What happens on Starbase, and all that.”

It takes Jim a moment to realise what the fuck he’s saying, and then he laughs, incredulous. “That is not it. Bones does not give a shit what I do in my free time. He trusts me. I just wanna spend some time with him.”

Scotty assesses him for a long moment, but he nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Have a great time. Don’t get arrested.”

Scotty waves him off with an impatience that is not at all reassuring.

-

“Thanks for this, Jim,” Sulu says, when Jim takes him aside to let him know he’s been designated an additional comm hour a week so he can keep in touch with Ben and Demora. “I know you’re not exactly- you know.”

Jim doesn’t know. He both frowns and smiles. “Not exactly what?”

“Not exactly on board with the whole marriage thing.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with marriage.”

“Well, sure, but you’re not looking for it.”

Jim thinks about the last time he and Bones managed to steal an afternoon together, on shore leave, of the ring that had been burning a hole in his pocket and is now carefully hidden in his quarters because there just hadn’t been a moment, and he needs to do it right, to get it perfect if he’s going to convince Bones to go through all that again.

“I’d do it,” he’s slightly surprised to find Sulu is still listening when he says.

“Good for you. Best thing I ever did. I hope you find someone.”

Jim takes a deep, fortifying breath, plasters on a smile, and leaves him to it.

-

“Your status as Captain will require you to complete the ritual alongside the princess-”

“Spock, I can’t do that! I know you think I don’t read these things but I know what that ritual involves! There’s all sorts of kissing and touching and something about a binding commitment? I’m in a relationship. I can’t go promising myself to some princess just for the sake of making this easier on the Federation. I’m not prostituting myself for a trade agreement.”

“Your personnel file indicates no permanent commitment-”

“I’m not married, Spock, doesn’t mean I’m not with someone!”

“Your next of kin is recorded as Doctor McCoy-”

“Because we’ve been dating for four fucking years.” Jim hates how frustrating he finds this, how there are angry tears forming in his eyes because it’s so fucking obvious, if anyone could get past his previous inclination towards casual sex and just look. They’re supposed to be exploring strange new worlds but they can’t even see what’s happening right in front of their faces.

“This agreement is of vital significance-”

“No, you know what? Stop. I’m not doing it. I’m not risking my relationship with Bones, I’m not. Fuck the Federation, if that’s what they want me to do, because I’ve figured out why they get so antsy about Captains being in relationships with their crew, and it’s because he comes first. I’d fly this whole fucking ship into a sun before I risked jeopardising what I have with him.”

Spock gets those slightly widened eyes and fractional head tilt that reveal he’s deeply shocked and appalled by what Jim has said, and for a long moment they’re both silent. Jim feels both relief that there’s a weight off his shoulders for finally saying it, and dread that a far larger weight is about to come crashing down in its place.

“I am- unsure of your motivation in telling me this. You must know that based on that confession I will be forced to relieve you of your command for at least the duration of this mission.”

“Here, I’ll save you the hassle. I’m signing myself off pending a full medical assessment. Have fun marrying an alien princess, and then explaining that to Uhura. I’ll be in my quarters.”

It’s probably not the most dignified thing Jim has ever done, but it’s far from the worst and it gets him out of there.

-

“What the hell did you do?” Bones asks him later, and it’s the most reassuring thing Jim’s heard all day. “I got a call from Spock saying that you ceded command, but that he believed any explanation he attempted would violate some sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you and risked large scale destruction. And if that’s not the Vulcan way of saying ‘I think he’d better be the one to tell you’ then I don’t know what is. Why are you on the floor?”

Jim is indeed on the floor, sprawled on his back still in his uniform, staring up at the ceiling. The hum of the engines feels kind of soothing against his back. “I don’t wanna be the Captain anymore.”

“Oh, sure. What shall we do instead? Run a bed and breakfast? Farm tribbles?”

Jim feels tears prick at his eyes at that assumption that wherever he goes, Bones is coming with him. Even if he throws his entire life away, all his achievements, he’ll still have the one thing that matters most.

Bones steps over him, is pouring a drink, but Jim whines, makes grabby hands until he rolls his eyes and hands it over only for Jim to set it aside.

Then the eyebrows go up. “Oh, God. If you need me sober for this conversation I’m gunna need a drink.”

Jim loves him so fucking much. “Spock wanted me to marry an alien princess.”

“Isn’t that every Starfleet Captain’s dream? It’s page six in the damn handbook.”

“You read the handbook?”

“You kept quoting regulations at me, it was self-defence.” Bones finally puts the bottle of bourbon down, sinks to the floor beside Jim although he leans back against the wall. “I knew that one about getting to keep any commandeered vessels was a lie, anyway.”

“Starfleet never lets us have any fun.” But Jim’s tone is subdued, and his face falls. “Would you be here, if it weren’t for me?”

Bones snorts. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“You could have stayed on the ground. Got a posting planetside. You wouldn’t have been anywhere near this mess.”

“You saved me long before the fucking Enterprise, Jim.”

The pricking at Jim’s eyes becomes tears, then. He doesn’t like to think about that, doesn’t want to. He reaches for Bones’ hand and tangles their fingers together. “You know I love you, right?”

“Never doubted it.” Bones gives him a soft, warm smile, and he lets Jim twist around on the floor until he’s resting his head on Bones’ thigh, sniffling into his uniform pants, and then he pets his hair.

Jim flails out an arm, reaches for and hands him the glass of bourbon. He’s heard all he needs to know.

-

“I don’t think you need to farm tribbles,” Jim says, when he and Bones are planetside, observing the preparations for the ceremony in which Spock is apparently going to be taking part in just a few hours’ time. Everything looks beautiful, underneath the light of a pinkish sun, with sparkling gems and coloured drapes adorning the amphitheatre. “They sort of farm themselves.”

“And why would you, anyway? There are easier ways to get high, certainly more efficient ways of rearing meat.”

“Fur coats?” Jim suggests, and they both shudder. Jim steps in a little closer without even bothering to pretend he’s not, earns himself a sidelong look. “You’d make a great farmhand. Plaid shirt hanging open, straining at the arms. Worn jeans, and boots. Tanned skin.”

“Still a doctor, damnit. And I think you’re thinking of lumberjacks.”

“We should get you a plaid shirt.”

“We should get you neutered.”

“I’d still hump your leg.”

“That a promise?”

They look at each other. They’re so close. And they’re still in uniform and Jim has always vowed to keep those two sides of his life separate but he doesn’t think he can, any more. He asks for a kiss with his eyes and Bones’ look of genuine surprise makes him want to cry with how wrong he’s been doing things, all this time. He claims he’d put Bones first, but he hasn’t been, hasn’t dared, can’t blame anyone in that moment for not taking his relationship seriously because none of his behaviour suggests it is.

He leans in for that kiss, and Bones meets him just a little after halfway, so warm and soft and familiar, and there are crewmembers everywhere but this is it, he’s done hiding. They can take his fucking ship, discharge them both, he doesn’t even care, as long as he has this.

“I love you,” he says, or means to say, but this whole fucking week has been messing him around and what comes out instead is, “Marry me?”

“What?”

“What?” Jim echoes, because- “I didn’t mean to say- oh, God, not that I didn’t mean to ask. I’ve wanted to ask for ages but I wanted the moment to be perfect and I’m just fucking this whole thing up and I don’t even have the ring, it’s-“

Except he does. It’s in his pocket. He’d been overcome with paranoia that morning before they beamed down and couldn’t stand to leave it behind.

He takes it out with shaking fingers and he knows Bones is staring, has nothing to say, is speechless for maybe the first time Jim has ever seen, because he never shuts up even when he should and he’s the most perfect person Jim has ever known.

And Jim has fucked this up so completely, monumentally, but he’s never been one for half measures. He sinks to one knee.

Someone squeals. Jim doesn’t look to see who. He only has eyes for Bones, only one thing on his mind, manages somehow to get the words out that he intended- “Bones. You are the only person who has ever made me think that there might not be enough time in the universe for me to spend with you. The rest of my life is all I have. And I could travel the universe, discover a new planet every day, but it wouldn’t make me as happy as waking up next to you. Marry me.”

It doesn’t come out as a question, but he loses his voice and can do no more than mouth the, “Please?” that follows.

It makes Bones’ lip quirk upwards, anyway, in that fond little half smile he gets when he thinks Jim is being particularly ridiculous. “Are you doing this because you want me to know, or because you want everyone else to?”

Okay, that’s not how this is supposed to work. Bones is supposed to answer his question, not ask one of his own, particularly one that makes Jim screw up his face and admit, like some sort of idiot, “Both.”

Except somehow, because they are the weirdest couple Jim has ever seen, and he’s seen a lot, that earns him a satisfied smile, Bones standing up straight, setting his shoulders and nodding. “Damn straight. Yeah, Jim, I’ll marry you. Since you asked so nicely.”

He’s such a dick. Jim loves him more than anything and it takes both of them, with even Bones’ legendary hands shaking a little, to get the ring onto his finger, for him to haul Jim to his feet so they can embrace and kiss and stare into each other’s eyes and just revel in the moment. The moment that lasts for as long as it takes their crew to reach them and start congratulating and hugging them and lifting them up to swing them around –“Damnit, Hendorff, I’m a Doctor not your prom date, put me down!”- and for once, for not a single person to suggest that what they have isn’t real.

It shouldn’t have taken a proposal of marriage to do it, but Jim’s too happy to care about that.

When they finally get a moment alone, Bones leans into Jim’s side, curves an arm around his waist, murmurs in his ear, “Can I punch Spock in the nose for trying to marry you off to someone else?”

“No.” Jim laughs, shakes his head, noses at Bones’ cheek, beams to himself because this, this is everything, and he interrupts Bones’ answering grumble, “Not if I get to him first.”


End file.
